


Of Halflings and Dragonblood

by FedExMarauder



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon What Canon, Eventual Bagginshield, Horns, Hybrid - Freeform, I AM DOING MY BEST, M/M, No beta/We die like men, Not Like That, WIP, bagginshield, be patient with me i am a small science bean in a big literary world, dragon - Freeform, sort of??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 13:11:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16018616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FedExMarauder/pseuds/FedExMarauder
Summary: In which there is more to this hobbit than meets the eye, the Battle of the Five Armies goes down a bit differently, and the author is probably on some of kind hallucinogen please send help.





	Of Halflings and Dragonblood

 

 

Thorin, not for the first time that day, cursed his lack of directional skills.

 _It’s quite easy to find!”_ the old wizard had assured him. _“Right at the very top of a great hill. You’ll not miss it.”_ Well, had the crooning wizard thought to mention the multitude of hills and hilltop homes that sat throughout the rather-much-larger than promised Shire?

No. No, he had not.

And so there was Thorin, mighty king of the once prosperous Erebor, now wandering lost and increasingly irate through the roads of the Shire. He was the embodiment of Not Pleased.

Somehow or another, he’d found himself in a market of sorts. Of course, the day was very much over and now even the latest closing stalls were packing their things under the darkening night sky. Thorin watched the few hobbits who hurried through the spreading dusk for a moment, wondering which if any could direct him to this “Baggins” fellow.

He stepped forward along the path and put out his hand to hail the nearest. The hobbit stopped and met his eyes with a certain curiosity, and though Thorin thought all the hobbits looked far younger than they probably were, what with them having no beards (what a silly notion, honestly), he could tell this hobbit in particular was young even among his peers.

“Aye, mister dwarf?” the hobbit asked.

Thorin inclined his head. “I wonder if perhaps you could help me? I’m trying to find the home of one Master Baggins, I don’t suppose you’d know where I might- “

“ _Mad Baggins_? The ol’ devil of Bag-End?” the hobbit exclaimed, a disbelieving grin covering his face. He scoffed loudly. “What’dya want with _’im_?”

Before Thorin could reply, a loud voice from behind boomed, “Shouldn’t yap about things you know nothing about, faunt. Get back to your mother before I tell her you’re out spreading rumors.”

As the young hobbit scurried away, Thorin looked over his shoulder at the owner of the voice. This hobbit was clearly quite a bit older, with dark rea hair and a patient smile on his face. “Don’t mind ‘em, mister dwarf! Tweens tend to repeat whatever their parents tell ‘em, though that one should know better by now,” the hobbit scowled, shaking his head. Afterward, he lifted his cap in greeting and added, “I’m Hamfast Gamgee, though they call me the Gaffer ‘round here.”

Thorin nodded at the man’s greeting. “Thorin Oakenshield, at your service.”

Hamfast laughed. “At yours, mister Oakenshield! Now, supposing you still need directions to Master Baggins’ home, I might be some use.” He nodded over his shoulder at the broad path snaking away from the marketplace. “That’s the Great East Road, I’m sure you know it?”

Thorin gave a nod. That road connected the Blue Mountains to the Shire and Breeland and beyond- every soul who traveled in the West knew the road.

Hamfast smiled. “Well, taking that road, you’ll come to the Big Hill. At the top, that’s Bag-End, the home of the hobbit you’re looking for. I swear to you, you’ll not miss it once you see it.”

Thorin stared blankly for a moment. _You’ll not miss it? Oh no, certainly not- it isn’t as though I’ve been wandering this bucolic hell for hours now. Is this hobbit in league with the wizard?!_

“There are quite a number of big hills around Hobbiton, Mister Gamgee,” Thorin led, looking around the countryside for emphasis.

Hamfast laughed at that, which Thorin found a bit insulting. “Yes, but this is _the_ Big Hill, with a great tree atop it we call the Party Tree! The whole top of the hill itself is Bag-End, the greatest smial in Hobbiton- that’s where you’ll find dear Mister Bilbo Baggins!”

Thorin swallowed back a sigh and nodded his thanks, turning onto the road once more. He was sure he’d walked the length of Shire twice over by now, but once more along the road wouldn’t be the end of him. He was so very close to beginning the quest that would return him and his kin to their ancestral home- if the wizard hadn’t insisted they enlist the help of a burglar, he and his company would already be on their way.

_Blasted wizard._

The sky was dark when he came to the bottom of what absolutely must have been the Big Hill. Another smaller road snaked away from the East Road to its base, where it turned and curved away up the side of the gigantic mound. Sitting at its top, as the Gaffer had promised, was a massive tree silhouetted by the dying daylight. Embedded in the ground around the side of the hill were small, round, shuttered windows and tiny garden spaces tucked into natural dips in the hillside, with paths linking them all.

 _hat must be Bag-End_.

Thorin wound along the smaller road, noting the sign that designating the path “Bagshot Row”. Finally, he reached the top and stood before a round green door with dent in its center. The remains of a glowing sigil were beneath the dent, the usual advertisement for burglars looking for work.

This was it, then. The muffled sound of music and laughter came from behind the door- his Company had already arrived.

Thorin knocked heavily, and the cacophony ended at once. The door was opened, and standing before Thorin was the old wizard himself, Gandalf the Grey.

“Gandalf,” greeted Thorin evenly. Before the wizard could reply, he continued, “I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice.”

Gandalf straightened at this and pushed the door open more. Thorin could see the rest of the company inside, watching him from the hall. He added, “I wouldn’t have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.”

“Mark? There’s no mark on that door, it was painted a week ago!”

The voice was light, the usual Shire lilt to it, and it came from behind the door and Gandalf. The wizard stepped back to say something quietly to the voice’s bearer as Thorin stepped in, the door closing behind him.

“Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf began, holding Thorin’s gaze away from the source of the voice as he did, “allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.”

Finally, Thorin looked to the last member of their party. The hobbit, the burglar, the reason Gandalf had insisted they make this stop in the Valar-forsaken hills of the Shire.

Like all the hobbits Thorin had seen before, Bilbo Baggins was short of stature and much smaller and softer than any dwarf would be. He was dressed not in fur and traveling gear but in the common style of the Shirefolk. He wore no coverings on his furred feet, and his ears were wider and more pointed than those of men or dwarrow. But these were not the things Thorin found the most notable about the Shireling.

No, this hobbit had one thing in particular that set him apart from any other hobbit Thorin had ever seen in any of his travels, or any _race_ he’d ever.

Growing atop Bilbo’s head, from just behind his temples and beneath honey-colored curls, was a wide pair of sweeping rams horns that flowed along the edge of his skull, the tips twisting up just a bit at the ends, which reached past even the back curve of the creature’s head.

 _The Devil of Bag-End, indeed_.

The hobbit stood tall, thumbs tucked behind his braces, a guarded sort of nervousness in his eyes.

The hobbit had horns. Why did the hobbit have horns?

“So,” Thorin growled, as though the appearance of the little halfling had not shaken him in the slightest, “ _this_ is the hobbit.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Woo  
> Obviously only a chapter so far but also  
> I haven't posted fanfic in a while and wanted to get my feet wet  
> This is kind of a trial run to see if people actually want to read another retelling of the Hobbit  
> This time with more dragon-antics  
> Because fuck yeah, dragons


End file.
